


Company

by HarryTwinks (AndroidHeaven)



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 03:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30133254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndroidHeaven/pseuds/HarryTwinks
Summary: The aftermath of Spurs' shameful elimination from Europa League.
Relationships: Eric Dier/Harry Winks
Kudos: 7





	Company

**Author's Note:**

> Sighs 
> 
> I’m pouring all my frustrations and sadness into this in hopes to find some comfort. So, I am sharing it with you hoping that it helps you too.
> 
> I’m so fucking tired of people talking shit about Winksy stg

It didn’t make sense to Eric. 

It was obvious to everyone: the players, the fans, the manager, the commentators—Everyone. It was absolutely ridiculous what had happened. A historical defeat, suffered by one of the best clubs from one of the best leagues in the world. 

Naturally, the players felt that. Eric still couldn’t believe it when the final whistle had been blown, refused to accept it. It was as if his heart had sunk to the depths of misery, paining his chest uncontrollably, because it had been the confirmation of their embarrassing elimination. He didn’t bother greeting opposition players nor congratulating them, he simply walked in haste to the dressing rooms seeking safety away from that pitch, like every other player did. Although Eric had aimed for safety in the dressing rooms away from prying eyes, it felt the opposite. It was even worse there. 

The mood was filled with sorrow, bordering on despair at that point. Everyone was quiet, nobody dared to speak because they all knew they had no place to talk at that moment. They simply waited for what Mourinho had to say to them, expecting to be lashed on, angrily criticised, be shown how angry he was with their performance. However, they only received silence in response. Mourinho practically ignored them, didn’t bother saying anything. It was crystal clear that the message he wanted to transmit with his silence was profound disappointment. And Eric absolutely hated the admonishing feeling emitted through it. 

He wished their manager had yelled at them, made it perfectly clear how angry he was with their defeat, because Eric was furious. He was already pissed off in the final moments of the game, not understanding why everyone seemed to have given up, accepting the loss when there still was time to correct their mistakes and reclaim their place. Until time was up. Then Eric himself also felt hopeless. It was as if everything so far had been a fruitless attempt on trying to get _somewhere_. He didn’t expect their most important run to have ended so soon. 

Although Eric was furious, he didn’t show it in the dressing rooms. Eric preferred to keep to himself when he wasn’t angry at someone specific, isolate himself in a corner and suffer in his own mind, unlike Lamela and Dele who throw or hit things sometimes, cursing loudly, something Eric feels uncomfortable with although he understood it. Yet that day, even the ones who usually react with more aggressivity to their loss, were silent. 

The silence lingered during their bus trip back to the hotel and persisted in the hotel itself. After dining in a terrible atmosphere, Eric went to his room just like everybody else, looking down at his feet with a disappointed sigh struggling to escape his lips. Once inside, he threw the key card plus his phone aside then slumped his body on the bed with a tired grunt. 

Eric knew that he should go to sleep, tuck himself in the comfortable bed and shove his worries out of his mind so that he can rest. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to ignore his subdued concerns and downhearted feelings. Everything kept repeating like a broken record in his mind, shoving in his face all the mistakes they’ve made, imagining everything they could’ve done differently. 

He couldn’t sleep. Eric had even tried, changed his clothes to comfier ones, brushed his teeth then set himself under the cosy bedsheets on the soft mattress. His mind didn’t let him rest even though he was exhausted, both mentally and physically. He realised that if his head keeps hammering him with those constant repeating thoughts, then he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all. 

Eric was conscious that the only way to stop his invading thoughts was by distracting them, or maybe addressing them with someone else. He preferred the latter, because he was aware of how he wouldn’t manage to get distracted by himself considering how sorrowful he was feeling. Besides, Eric wanted to talk. More than that, he wanted to talk to someone who was feeling the same as him, caused by the same reason. Someone who would understand him completely. 

It was already late, therefore the chances that no one would be wishing to talk to Eric at that moment were high. However, he knows some of his teammates too well, and he is certain that many are also unable to fall sleep because of what happened. Eric wondered what these teammates must be thinking, if they were as unhappy and frustrated as he was, or if they were better at handling the emotions caused by their mess. 

He got up, put his shoes on, then was out the door of his room. Eric decided to pay someone a visit, someone he is certain who would be feeling as terrible as him, who would comprehend his thoughts, share his utter disappointment. Someone who was just as affected because football is everything that person also thinks about and lives for. 

Eric stopped in front of Harry Winks’ door, second guessing himself. He grew insecure and awkward for a second, wondering if that was a good idea. Maybe Harry didn’t wish to see nor talk to anyone, and Eric doesn’t want to bother him. He is aware that even if Harry doesn’t want company, he still would offer someone company because that boy is sweet like that. Eric threw his worries aside, preferring to remain optimistic albeit the awful day. Perhaps Harry wished to have company too. Besides, Eric was already there, all he needed was to knock on that door. 

And so, he did. His knuckles reached the door five times in a quick pace, not too strongly nor too softly, loud enough for Harry to hear if he was distracted but low enough not to alert any neighbour. Eric anxiously waited, wondering if he was mistaken and Harry was actually sound asleep. However, he proved to be right when the door opened, revealing the younger man who had an unhappy expression sprawled on his face although there was surprise in his features for seeing Eric there. 

“Eric? Do you need something?” Harry asked curiously. Usually when a teammate visited another one in the hotel was to borrow something, except for a few occasions in which they visited each other only for fun. 

“Hey, can I come in?” Eric replied with a question of his own. 

Harry nodded, seeming even more surprised. He made way for Eric to enter the room then closed the door behind them. Eric noticed how Harry’s bed was a mess, signalling how the brunet had been tossing and turning in his attempt of sleep. His phone was on the nightstand, earphones plugged in, and Eric knows Harry well enough to know that he was probably listening to sad music to cope, maybe Coldplay since the younger man liked that band. 

Eric sat on the bed and Harry did the same, tiredly accompanying the older man. Harry looked at Eric in curiosity, his puppy eyes revealing how he was confused amidst his sadness as to why Eric was there. However, Harry didn’t need to be a genius to know that Eric wanted to talk about what happened or to at least have some company. Eric is conscious that Harry also knew him well enough to know these things, to know how much Eric was also affected although expressing it in a different way. Harry’s confusion and surprise were probably more about being Eric’s first choice of company. 

“How are you feeling?” Eric asked, his voice careful and low. 

It was a stupid question because everyone felt the same, although some felt it with more intensity than others. 

“Terrible.” Harry smiled, his sad eyes betraying the forcedly happy display of teeth. “And you?” 

“Same.” 

They shared an acknowledging gaze in silence, both wanting to help each other but having no idea how since they were in the exact same situation. There was nothing one could say that would relieve the other’s pain nor fix the problem. All they could do was offer each other comfort because they were equally miserable. 

“I just feel like—” Eric broke the silence on a whim, not finding the words at first before continuing. “I don’t know, like we are doing something so wrong, but I don’t know why we do it.” 

Eric trailed off, distractedly. “We never get anywhere even when we try, and sometimes everyone just stops trying and I get really angry—” 

He interrupted himself, not finding the words to complete his frustrated train of thought. Harry listened keenly, his eyes saddening further as he heard Eric’s rant. 

“We played shit, but I don’t understand why.” Eric continued. “We don’t lack capacity, it’s something else and I don’t fucking get it.” 

Eric realised how Harry was becoming sadder as he continued talking, so he suddenly stopped. 

“I’m sorry.” He apologised, not meaning to complain about everything in a hopeless manner because that doesn’t help anything. 

“No, it’s... It’s fine.” Harry reassured. “You’re right, a-at least about most of it.” 

Eric eyed him curiously upon his last words. 

“In what do you disagree?” He asked, puzzled. 

Harry hesitated, gulping as his eyes darted around, not managing to fix his gaze anywhere as he tried to speak. It almost seemed as if he was about to start crying. 

“N-Not all of us have the capacity... Not all of us is good enough to be here.” 

Eric furrowed his brows, wondering what on earth Harry was talking about. He feared in the back of his head what Harry meant by that but tried not to jump to any conclusions by himself just yet. 

“L-Like me.” Harry confessed, with a shaky voice. 

Then suddenly, he collapsed. Harry started crying, sniffling loudly although he tried to remain composed in front of Eric. 

The sight of it combined with those words frustrated and weighted down Eric’s chest to the point it was physically painful. Eric had seen some of the other players silently crying in the dressing room after the match, even had spotted how Harry was holding back his tears with full might in order not to embarrass himself in front of the others. Now, Harry was almost to the point of sobbing and Eric couldn’t accept what he heard. 

“How on earth did you get to that conclusion?” Eric asked angrily mixed with frustration, hurt at Harry’s lack of higher self-esteem. 

It was obviously common for players to sometimes doubt themselves and their qualities, a thing that never should happen on the pitch in order not to compromise their performance. However, out of the pitch, it was a whole another story. In the hotels and in their homes, it wasn’t a performance. Thus, they could be true to themselves since no one is watching or expecting a show from them. 

“I even got subbed in the middle of the second half and—” Harry was about to start ranting but stopped himself. 

He wiped his tears and chuckled nervously, offering a smile to Eric to relieve the unnecessary drama he thought he was doing. 

“Sorry, hah. I’m just babbling.” Harry continued the smile. 

However, before Eric could even say anything to all of that, Harry lost it and started crying again. 

It was heart-breaking. Eric pulled Harry for a hug, wrapping his arms around the brunet to calm him down a bit. With the sound of his crying mixed with his own pain, Eric wasn’t sure how he didn’t start crying as well. His brain must have been unconsciously aware that if he also started crying, then everything would get worse because no one would be able to calm down. 

Harry had briefly answered the embrace but then backed away to wipe his tears, once more trying to stop his uncontrollable crying. Eric sighed in frustration. 

“Winksy, you can open up to me.” He assured with a low but firm voice. “I know sometimes you might feel shitty for not always being where you want, but that doesn’t mean you’re bad. It really doesn’t.” 

Harry looked away, his gaze disagreeing with what Eric was saying. 

“But I’m not good enough.” 

Eric sighed again. “Where are you getting that from? Because you were subbed today? It was only a tactical change, Winksy, nothing to do with you in specific.” 

Harry shook his head. “I rarely ever play anymore, and everyone says that—” 

He interrupted himself as more tears trailed down his freckled face. Eric pulled Harry back to an embrace, but this time with no intention of letting him escape his arms. 

“Winksy...” Eric spoke softly, moving his hand to caress his hair when Harry started spilling his feelings. 

“Everyone says that I’m terrible, that I’m this and that. I’ve never read a positive article about me, did you know that?!” 

“God, Winksy. You are in this for almost as long as I am, you should know by now that you shouldn’t care about what others say.” 

“But I do! I’m a Spurs fan, always have been! So I wished that I could be someone important here, but every Spurs fan hates me!” 

Harry’s muffled hurt voice was becoming louder, truly getting frustrated as he finally let all those thoughts escape through his lips and reach someone else’s ears. Eric is certain that Harry must have never told anyone about these worries of his before, most likely ashamed to do so since everyone else seemed to take critics well and have, or feign, better confidence than him. 

“How can you say that? There are so many fans that love when you play, if you really think that’s important to know.” 

Harry had been with his face buried in the junction of Eric’s chest and neck, but he tilted his head to the side to speak clearly and avoid getting his voice muffled. His feelings were becoming a mess and he was set on ranting about himself. 

“I’m easily expandable, Eric! You know that!” 

Eric shook his head in frustration this time. Football is and forever will be like this, and he knows it very well. In a week a player may think they’re doing superb then suddenly in the next one it may seem as if their career was in the bin. Eric knows that too well. 

“A-And I’ve heard people say that...” 

“That what?” Eric pried curiously when Harry failed to finish his sentence. 

“T-They say that the only fans that like me are girls and children b-because I have a ‘pretty’ face.” 

At that, Harry let a few more tears escape his eyes again. Eric truly hated how Harry cared too much about what others say about him. Sure, it is inevitable for someone to completely ignore critics towards them, but they’ve been dealing with that for years and it was just how things are. He doesn’t want Harry to feel unworthy because of that. Especially since after that day’s historical defeat, a lot of anger was going to rain down on every single one of them. 

“Well, it’s true that you are pretty, but there’s much more to you than that.” Eric said lightly, smiling to himself at the first part. “And I’m sure your fans recognise you for your talents as well.” 

Harry froze for a second, body going stiff when Eric called him pretty. He had eased his crying, only sniffling as he rested his head on Eric’s chest. The position they were hugging was slightly awkward since they were sitting side by side, and it was starting to hurt Eric’s already exhausted limbs, so he figured it was the same for Harry. However, no one wanted to part from the much-needed embrace. 

Eric shifted and gently guided Harry to lie down on the bed with him, immediately pulling him back to his arms. Now the position was much more comfortable. Harry was surprised at first, body growing stiff again before shyly answering the embrace, wrapping his arm around Eric’s torso. 

“We’re getting through this, Winksy.” Eric softly reassured, caressing Harry’s skin with one hand and petting his hair with the other. 

Harry slightly moved away, only enough to be able to tilt his head up to meet Eric’s gaze. Harry’s adorable doe eyes were reddened and exhausted from crying so much, the lingering sadness clear on his flushed face. Eric had never seen his eyes from so close, at least not with enough time to be able to cherish the sight. His long lashes and thick eyebrows complemented his puppy eyes perfectly, and Eric couldn’t help suddenly feeling crushed at how beautiful that man is. 

Eric carefully brought his hand to Harry’s face, softly placing it there, wiping the remnants of his tears with his thumb. He was happy to notice how Harry’s eyes also became lost in his small blue ones, also seeming stunned at the sight of them so close to his own. 

Harry unconsciously diminished that distance even further, his face becoming dangerously close to Eric’s. They were completely lost in it, and Eric didn’t think before reaching for Harry’s lips, pressing his own softly against them as the silence filled the room in a comfortable manner. 

The kiss was brief and small, more of a question than anything else. Harry’s eyes were dazed, looking at Eric in complete awe although the remaining unhappiness lingered somewhere in between. Eric took that as the answer he was looking for and broke the distance again. This time, he properly brought their mouths together into a deep and profound kiss. Eric tasted some of the saltiness in result of Harry’s tears that had washed over his entire face, lips included, but he felt tingly knowing that it was a way of Harry sharing his tears with Eric. 

It was the best comfort Eric thought he could give Harry at that moment. And it was the best comfort Eric knew he could have from Harry. 

When they broke the kiss, Eric held the younger man the tightest that he could. Harry shyly grabbed the front of his t-shirt in response, burying his face in his neck as they breathed each other and shared their sorrow. 

Eric doesn’t know what will happen next. He doesn’t know what needs to happen next. Perhaps a change here and there, whether it’s them, the others or even who’s above them. 

Yet whatever it is going to be, he hopes, more than anything, that Harry will be happy. 

**Author's Note:**

> I am working on a scientific research in my university with two of my classmates about “Mental Health in Football’, even made a presentation about it already using Tottenham as an example and all, so I might have let the psychological aspect of things invade this story bc I guess I can’t help it anymore.


End file.
